


How To Kill Your Lover

by wesleyfanfiction_archivist



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-26
Updated: 2003-12-26
Packaged: 2018-07-12 08:20:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7094083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesleyfanfiction_archivist/pseuds/wesleyfanfiction_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some profound yet insane ramblings of Wesley, due to the <br/>aftermath of "Salvage" and the general situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How To Kill Your Lover

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [WesleyFanfiction.net](http://fanlore.org/wiki/WesleyFanFiction.Net). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [WesleyFanfiction.net collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wesleyfanfiction/profile).

~~~~  
blurring and stirring the truth and the lies  
so i don't know what's real and what's not  
always confusing the thoughts in my head  
so i can't trust myself anymore  
i'm dying again...                                                                                
-"Going Under" Evanescence   
~~~~

It should be gut-wrenchingly hard to kill your lover.

 

But it isn’t. It’s really quite easy. The movements were simplistic,   
people need not question the motive.

 

~~~  
...Just take an axe…  
~~~

 

But the more I think, the more there is.

 

Killing is not only physical demise, but also the purging of memory. 

 

Does that mean she was dead to me before her body hit the ground?

 

No, I don’t suppose. Although I had ended our rather twisted relationship" and I had once more begun to play the "Let’s get Fred" game, she was still in my thoughts, a haunting mockery.I remember her in the sewers, the never-ending hole in her belly, the way she still limps away in my head. Her heels click as she walks around, throbbing headaches that refuse to go away. She is dead but not completely gone from my head-just as her head fell away, so now do my thoughts, my sanity leaving. 

 

~~~  
...Let it fall…  
~~~

   
A spider scurries by my hand on the purple curtains, the sound grating on my nerves. Almost involuntarily, I smash it to death. Physical death, and no one mourns its death. Complete.   
It was easy to crush that spider. It was easy to chop off that head. My hand came down on the spider as an axe comes down to decapitate.

 

Dear Lord, help me. I did not cause the life to drain out of her body, like the spider’s, but I am as guilty as if I had. Doesn’t matter that Angelus killed her, it was my fault that she was there to be killed, my fault the executioner was there. I took Fred with me, but not her. Deep down, I did not care about her safety as much as Fred’s. She had always taken care of herself before, but that night she hadn’t been able to…

 

Fred is a bug, a small annoyance in the side. As the spider crawling up the curtains had annoyed me, I had smashed it with my hand and felt no remorse. I could do away with Fred right now, and feel no different; dead in my thoughts as the spider lies dead on the fabric, almost indistinguishable from the dark color. I thought Fred meant something, beauty and intelligence in a world of decaying flesh. Beauty is truly in the eye of the beholder, for now she is not even half as lovely as the corpse on the table. 

 

Even in death she is fascinating and bewitching, just as she was in life. It is not surprising, considering that now the dead look more alive sometimes than the living. A world of fear will do that to you. The departed are at rest, while you are still fleeing into the night.

 

~~~  
...Watch its descent…  
~~~

 

Let us define love now. More often than not, love equates itself with obsession and desire. The godly ideal of Love is gone and it is not coming back. People will fall in and out of passion, never love. 

 

In this complicated existence, everything is perplexing. Love leads to heartbreak and sadness when it ends, and all good things do end. Why does it begin? I suppose it has to do with hope. We all hope for that special someone to fill our empty hearts. I have decided that Cupid has failed at his job. My love has been entangled with falsehoods and blind spots. I am sworn off "love" for life. 

 

Love? Keep it in your pants, my friend. Keep it in your pants like I should have. See how it ended. 

 

~~~  
...Observe the length of the incision…  
~~~

 

Have you ever noticed how people's eyes become red in photographs? 

 

Scientifically, it is the reflection of the flash on the eye, but I prefer to see it as the inner demon in us all, something we refuse to acknowledge, but the camera captures it all.

 

Angel had Angelus lurking beneath the surface, the red eyed demon that has now come out. Why is this happening? What have I done to deserve this guilt, the weight of the world on my shoulders? Why is evil able to flourish with ease, while the good struggle for mere survival? Will the world ever be cleansed of red eyes?

 

There are so many questions, and I need so many answers. Will You ever give me them? Maybe after I have passed through this world, in body and from the recollection of people. 

 

~~~  
...See the bloody stump…  
~~~

 

The truth is only realized after death, when it’s too late. 

 

Truth. The word caresses your lips as you say it. Tangles your tongue and gets stuck in my throat. 

 

What truth? Truth as a metaphor? For truth is what we choose it to be, which would imply that truth is ever-changing in one’s views.

 

So Fred was the truth of my obsessive love quest, before it all   
changed? No, no, I don’t want to go there and back again. 

 

Truth as a reality? Look out the window. This is truth. It’s just a   
bloody gory world out there with dead people. Dead people in the sense of those deceased, and those who wish they were.   
I am one of the dead, a walking hollow shell. I desire no food or   
sleep, but my companions force them onto me. They have not died yet, but they will. Certain rewakenings have ravaged my soul and deteriorated my body. It is only a matter of time before I end up in the basement wrapped in plastic, the victim of interpretation.

 

I am dead and dying.

 

~~~  
...Gaze upon the lovely head on the floor…  
~~~

 

I can’t take it! God, spare my soul! I am in torment, in agony,   
writhing on the floor. I experience the fear she must have gone through as she saw Angelus towering over her. I say it was easy, and for Angelus it truly was. Not just effortless, but pleasurable. A true monster. Does that also make me a monster for releasing him? 

 

I am the reason for quite a bit of the rampage and carnage. Thinking that Angelus could help us understand the Beast was a gamble I was willing to take. I am willing to take the reckless gambles, to sacrifice everything for the greater good. And I did, and it did no good. 

 

Look where this train of thought has led. From the ease of killing a loved one never thought to be loved, to the admittance of the harshness of this earth. Till human voices wake us and we drown, we will live in this muddle of doom and despair, waiting for our salvation. 

 

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here. I have entered the realm of shadows, and They tower over me. The Lord was our shepherd till these times.

 

May He have mercy on our souls.

 

~~~~  
Death Love Truth


End file.
